


Come with Me

by LottieWarwick



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3434792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieWarwick/pseuds/LottieWarwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcelo wants James. James has reservations but Marcelo is in a persuasive mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come with Me

Marcelo moved closer to James and drew his hand gently across his arse.

“Er… what are you doing?” said James. It wasn’t that he and Marcelo had gone to any particular effort to keep their relationship private but James couldn’t help thinking it was a bit public for that kind of activity.

“I want you, James,” Marcelo said, his voice low and husky. “I want to undress you and hold you and feel every inch of you. I want you hot and wet and burning for me. I want to take you in my mouth and from behind. I want to hear you cry my name and beg me for more.”

“What… now?” 

“Why not now?” Marcelo said. He played with the waistband of James’ shorts. “Perhaps there’s not time for everything but I can be pretty fast when I want to be.”

James was well aware of that; was probably more aware of it than anyone else in the squad. “But… we can’t. Not now. It’s half-time!”

Marcelo looked amused. “Well, we can hardly do it during the match, can we?” he said reasonably.

“Er… well… no,” James admitted. He tried to work out if the quickening of his heartbeat was due to panic or arousal. Perhaps it was both. “So… you just want to go at it in front of everyone?”

“Of course not!” Marcelo looked quite shocked. “Not that I have any personal objections but I know you do and that’s enough for me. And we’re not doing it in the loo either. Too much of a cliché. I don’t want to feel like a cottager. We’ll leave that sort of thing to Fulham.”

All James knew about Fulham was that they’d played in a Europa League Final: he knew nothing about their sexual practices but he could tell Marcelo was making a joke and his jokes were almost always funny so he smiled obediently.

Marcelo patted him on the arse. “Come on then. I don’t know about you but I definitely want to get… inside before the others.”

**  
Their clothes were thrown in a heap on the shower floor, as much tangled together as the two sets of limbs would be. Marcelo pushed James back against the wall of the shower, his hand sliding between his thighs and moving slowly upwards to take hold of James’ rapidly-swelling cock. Marcelo moved his hand slowly back and forth, squeezing and stroking and murmuring words of desire. Without warning, his lips crashed into James’, so forcefully that James thought he might have banged his head on the wall but he felt no pain, only pleasure as Marcelo’s mouth sucked wetly at his own.

James felt a moan beginning low in his throat but he stifled it as best he could as Marcelo’s lips left his and began to spray kisses down his throat, nibbling at his collarbone. His tongue traced a wet path down his stomach and then stopped, inches from his cock. 

“Don’t stop,” James whispered as Marcelo’s hands also stilled. Slowly, his fingers trailed down James’ inner thigh but Marcelo sat still, his eyes on James’ cock.

“I wonder if I could make you come just by looking at you,” Marcelo said. His tongue poked out from between his lips and his eyes glinted wickedly. “Yes, I think I probably could.”

James was beginning to pant: he did his best to control it; to breathe quietly but he couldn’t. Marcelo was moving towards him again: he took James’ cock in his hands and stroked it a few times before guiding it into his mouth. His tongue played with it: first tickling the head and then slowly wetting the sides of it. A bolt of desire shot through James but he bit back his cries, holding tightly to Marcelo’s shoulders as the other man finally took his cock fully into his mouth, his head bobbing gently back and forth, his hands sliding around his hips to cup his arse.

“Marcelo, yes, no, I can’t, don’t stop, oh no, oh yes,” James babbled incoherently as Marcelo continued to suck him. 

“Yes and no?” Marcelo removed his mouth from James’ cock and stood up. “Now, this puts you in a difficult position, James.”

“Yes… I… noticed…” James managed between gasps.

“If a man says no to me, I always stop.” Marcelo stepped back. His own cock was hard and his breathing wasn’t steady: James could see the rise and fall of his shoulders but he didn’t seem to be joking. 

“Marcelo, no, I mean yes, I mean, I didn’t mean…” James followed him and grasped his shoulders. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop! I want this. I want you.”

Marcelo smiled. Slowly and gracefully, he lowered himself to his knees and wrapped his mouth around James’ cock again. Without the wall to lean on, James felt his legs threatening to give way. His vision was blurred and he was unaware of anything except the deep ache inside him that was being simultaneously soothed and tortured with every touch of Marcelo’s tongue. 

“Oh yes, Marcelo,” James whispered. “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes…”

Marcelo impossibly took him further inside his mouth and as his tongue touched James’ balls it was all over.

“Oh yes, James.” Marcelo’s voice sounded odd but that might have been due to the amount he’d swallowed.

James lifted his head, a smile on his face.

“Oh fuck,” said Marcelo. His voice sounded normal that time. “James, that wasn’t me who said that.”

Slowly, they turned towards the entrance of the shower.

Iker was standing watching, his arms folded and a severe look on his face. “Oh yes, Marcelo. I am here and I heard everything. The whole squad heard everything. I imagine the manager and the opposition and half the stadium heard the finale.”

“I’m sorry,” James said but to his shame he realised it wasn’t true: in time he was sure he’d be embarrassed but now, with his blood still singing in his arteries, he could regret nothing.

“As half-time team talks go,” Iker said, “it was rather lacking in imagination. The words ‘oh yes’ have no clear tactical basis. But it certainly fired us up. Come and see.”

James still felt unable to move but Marcelo hauled him to his feet.

They left the shower to discover every one of their team mates sitting with smiles on their faces and their cocks in their hands.


End file.
